


Dance With Me

by Alternate_Alien



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Blood, Bruises, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gun Violence, Hot Joker, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, Sex, Smut, Sweet Arthur, Trauma, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 11:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alternate_Alien/pseuds/Alternate_Alien
Summary: You've been abused for so long, you forgot what it's like to actually be touched by someone who didn't want to hurt you. But Arthur Fleck is ready to kick down your door--literally-- and show you what you've been missing.





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Just some extra trigger warnings. There's some domestic abuse and violence in this fic. Please, do not read if that is something that makes you uncomfortable. This is a more dark and twisted fic than I'm used to, but I had the idea in the middle of the night and literally woke up to write it. Enjoy!

* * *

* * *

You could hear the shouting as soon as the elevator doors opened and it made a horrible feeling settle into your gut. For a moment, you stood there, glancing down to the panel of buttons, wondering if you should just go back to the ground floor and leave, though you knew there was no point.

It wouldn't matter how far you ran. He'd find you.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you tightened your grip on the paper grocery bags and stepped into the hallway, taking a left. You could see your apartment door ahead of you, right next to the older woman you'd only met once or twice and her son. He seemed nice enough, maybe a bit weird and he always ignored you. 

Everyone on this floor ignored you and you knew they could hear everything you went through. How could they not? Your boyfriend, Ron, never cared who heard. There were no repercussions for him. It wasn't every night that your boyfriend of three years went on a rampage, so maybe it was easier for people to ignore. Usually, his outbursts were after he had a hard day at work and came home to make himself feel better with a bottle of liquor...or two. Of course, that only made him blackout and get violent. 

Bracing yourself for the oncoming rage that would greet you upon entering your door, you paused in the hallway and pursed your lips. You kept your eyes on the peeling paint and the fading, brass numbers. A little voice, always so quiet and weak, spoke up in the back of your mind. 

'You can run. Just turn around and leave and go as far away as you can.' 

Several times you had listened to that voice, spending a week here and there in the local women's shelters and each time, Ron would come find you, apologizing and begging you to come back. And you would. Where else could you go? Your family was on the other side of the country and since you had run off with a man who swore to take care of you, what little family you'd had was no longer speaking to you. You had no way to find them, no way to escape. 

From inside the apartment, you heard a glass shatter, immediately followed by Ron's furious roar and cursing. It made you jump to hear it and you knew you'd better get inside to clean it up or he would only take it out on you later. 

Before you could force yourself to return to your personal nightmare, the door down the hall opened and you jumped back at the sight of Ms. Fleck's son. You had heard her speaking about him in passing, but had never committed his name to memory. He spotted you standing outside your apartment and he paused at the door, a full bag of trash in his hands. 

Immediately, his eyes cut to your door and his eyebrow raised at the sound of Ron's muffled shouting from within the apartment. For a second, you thought he would say something and you waited, hoping he would. You wanted him,  _ anyone _ , to tell you to leave and never come back. You would never listen to yourself. 

But, all he did was duck his head and continue down the hallway to the trash chute beside the elevator. You let out a shaky sigh and reached for the doorknob. The rustle of the plastic trash bag made you lift your head and you found him facing you again. 

He opened his mouth and sighed. "You shouldn't…  _ he _ shouldn't yell at you like that."

The sound of his voice surprised you. By his appearance, you would expect him to not be so...nice sounding? He hardly ever smiled, hardly ever looked your way and you had always assumed he was just another typical guy who was too wrapped up in himself to notice anyone else. You swallowed and ducked your head to avoid his sympathetic gaze.

"He's not always like this," your voice was quiet. "Just has some bad days."

"I have bad days. I don't treat people like that." He turned away and left you where you stood. A part of you wanted to wait for him to finish taking his trash out, to try and explain things to him. It was no use. He didn't and wouldn't understand. How could you expect someone else to understand when you didn't even know why you stayed. 

Before he could turn back around, you twisted the knob and stepped inside. Ron was in the living room, angrily wiping up a spilled glass of vodka. He lifted his head as you stepped inside. 

"About fucking time. Where'd you go to get groceries? Fucking China? Get over here and pick this glass up before I cut myself." You kicked your boots off by the door and turned to shut it. As you slid it closed, your eyes lifted to meet your neighbor's once more as he slowly moved past your apartment. 

He offered you a small, weak smile, one you couldn't return, and you closed the door with a soft click. 

A week later, Ms. Fleck died. 

.

.

The hallway was silent in the late hour of the night and you tried to keep your crying as quiet as you could. Your body wracked with sobs that shook you, and already, you knew that all the tension in your muscles would leave you sore the next day. But this was the only place you could actually cry and not disturb Ron. 

You sniffed and swiped at the stream of tears down your face before ducking your head into your palms. Why did you keep letting this happen? Why couldn't you just leave, put this all behind you? You could find a job, find a new place...with a shake of your head, you sat up against the wall and blinked up at the flickering lights above you. 

There was nowhere for you to go. He always found you and he always would. You were trapped until you died...or he died. But men like him were stubborn and would live until his 90s to die happily in his sleep. He didn't deserve it. 

Through your crying, you hadn't heard the creak of hinges down the hall until the sight of someone stepping out his door caught your attention. You blinked in surprise at the sight of Ms. Fleck's son, Arthur. You had spoken to a few detectives about him earlier that day and assumed it had to do with his mother's death. It had annoyed you that the police would bother someone so soon after losing a loved one. 

You quickly wiped your eyes and stood up from your seat on the dirty floor. You dusted your pants off and gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about your mother."

"Don't be. She's...in a better place." He had said it with a smile teasing the corner of his lips and you wanted to smile back, but didn't have the energy. Maybe it was weird for him to be so blasé about the death of his mother but who were you to judge the way someone grieved. After all, plenty of people judged you for staying with a man who abused you. 

From behind him, you could hear faint music playing from a movie on the television. It was loud enough that you could hear the words and you hoped your other neighbors wouldn't get upset. They only cared about noises like that, noises that would quiet down after banging on the shared walls. You sniffed and shrugged your shoulders. "Still, it isn't easy to lose someone."

"It isn't easy to live with them either." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a shoulder against the door frame. You knew he was referring to you and Ron but the sight of his suit distracted you. He was wearing red pants and a vest, with a yellow dress shirt beneath it. There was no jacket, but you suspected he had one. His hair was damp and slicked back and you found yourself wondering if he smelled like a fresh shower. 

It would be so nice to smell something pleasant for a change. For too long the only man you were ever closed to smelled like cheap booze and pungent aftershave. 

Arthur stepped away from his door and crossed the short distance to you. He looked down at you, studying your face and you ducked your head so he couldn't see the fading, yellow bruise on your cheek. Gently, he reached out and curled a finger beneath your chin, making you flinch. 

Not because he hurt you. But because no one had touched you so tenderly in years. 

He tilted your face up so he could see it better and he smiled. "Dance with me." 

"What?" 

He was already taking your hands, spreading them apart as he stepped back. He held you by the fingers and released one hand so he could twirl you slowly. You couldn't help the smile on your face, despite how strange this was. But he seemed sweet and dancing with him in the hallway was better than sobbing miserably on the floor. 

Arthur brought you back to him and held your left hand out while cradling you close with his arm around your back. The song from his apartment guided your steps and he slowly turned you and dipped you this way and that. All the while, you were caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. 

It had been so long since you had someone be sweet, you didn't quite know how to react. You swallowed and let your head fall against his warm chest as he continued to guide you through what you assumed was a waltz. 

"You're a good dancer," you said softly and the sound of his gentle laugh rumbled through his chest. 

"I've had practice. But, it's definitely more enjoyable dancing with someone than by myself."

You laughed and tilted your head back to look up at him. He slowed to a stop and smiled down at you. And for a moment, the two of you stared into one another's eyes. You were thankful for the moment. You knew it wouldn't last, but it was nice to feel just a few minutes of peace. 

Arthur reached up to your face with both hands and you pursed your lips to keep your chin from quivering. Tears burned at the back of your eyelids and he brushed his thumbs across your cheeks. 

"Why do you stay with him?" He asked suddenly, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

"I have no other options. I've left before, but he finds me." You didn't know why you were being honest with him. You just were, and it was surprisingly easy. "My only way out is if I die."

"If anyone dies it should be him." 

You laughed and opened your eyes to see him tilt his head to the side, studying you closely. He smiled and you caught a twinkle in his gaze. 

"I'd be happy to do it for you."

Again, you laughed and shook your head, putting your palms against his chest. "Arthur, you shouldn't joke about--"

He surprised you by dipping his head down and placing a tender kiss against your mouth. For several seconds, you were too surprised to react. On one hand, you knew you should slap him for being so presumptuous. How dare he think you were this easy! 

But on the other hand, you could tell by his kiss that he wasn't trying to seduce you and he wouldn't push you further than this. He was showing you kindness and compassion, showing you that you deserved something sweet and better. And you surprised yourself by closing your fingers around the fabric of his vest and kissing him back. You'd almost forgotten what it was like to share a kiss like this with someone. 

It left your toes curled and your entire body buzzing with excitement. 

Arthur guided your head to the side and did the same, kissing you deeper, moving his lips over yours like he knew exactly what you wanted. He tasted like cigarettes and toothpaste and for some reason, the combination was delicious. Or maybe it was just different than what you were used to. Either way, you liked it. 

But all too soon, he slowed the kiss and pulled away a fraction of an inch so he could take a deep breath. You held onto him tightly and kept your eyes closed, wishing nothing more than for him to invite you back into his apartment. He didn't.

Arthur gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and cupped your cheek with one hand. You felt him trace the fading edge of your bruise with his thumb. When you opened your eyes to look at him, he was smiling. 

"Let me know if you change your mind." With that, he took a step back and crossed the hall to his apartment door. You stared, watching him go, wishing he would turn back and invite you to join him. You were willing to follow him anywhere at that moment. That kiss made you forget all about Ron. At the door, Arthur glanced back at you and smiled. The door closed behind him with a click and you stood there, wondering if it had even happened at all.

.

.

You flinched, throwing your arms up to cover your face and braced yourself for the hit you knew was coming. Ron's fist hit the wall beside your head, immediately denting the drywall and all you could think about in that second was that if he had hit you with a punch like that, you'd be out cold. Possibly dead. Maybe that would have been better. 

"Why the  _ fuck _ were you talking to them?" Ron was in your face, prying your hands away so he could hold them down at your sides in a grip so strong, you cried out. A few days ago, two policemen came to the door, asking questions about Ms. Fleck's son who you learned was named Arthur. The detectives were asking routine things like if you'd ever noticed anything suspicious with him, and all you could say was he was the only person who had ever been nice to you. 

Of course, Ron stumbled down the hallway just as they were leaving, reeking of alcohol and looking close to passing out on the doorstep. It was only now that he remembered you had two policemen in your home and he was furious. 

"I told you! They were asking about the man down the hall. Ms. Fleck's son."

"That is  _ such  _ bullshit! It's  _ bullshit _ !" The back of his hand struck your jaw and you stumbled into the living room, clutching the side of your face. Warmth trickled down from your cheek and you knew his ring had cut you. "You were tellin' them lies about me, weren't you?"

"No! I swear! Just, calm down and I will tell you everything I said to them." He shook his head and paced the short length of the hallway as you looked around for anything to protect yourself with. There was an empty liquor bottle on the floor near the television but you didn't think you could get across the room fast enough. That hit had left you a little too dizzy to try. "Please, just calm down."

Ron whirled to face you, eyes blazing with fury. "You think I'm not calm? I'm calm, baby! But I'm about to fucking not be if I find out you told those pricks I'm hurting you. Like you don't fucking deserve every smack."

You nodded, finally lowering your hand. Blood smeared across your palm and still oozed out of the cut and you blinked through the burn of tears stinging your eyes. His footsteps echoed around the silence stretching between you and all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and hope someone would hear your scream if it got too bad. 

Ron dragged a deep breath through his nose and lifted a hand to your face, the side he hadn't injured. He smoothed back your hair and groped your shoulder, moving to your breast. Even through your pajama top, you hated the feel of his touch, hated how he groped you so hard you had bruises the next morning. You shut your eyes and swallowed tightly as he moved closer to your body, close enough for you to smell his sickly sweet breath and his cheap aftershave. 

"You know I always make it up to you, baby." He murmured, dipping his face close to your ear. "I always give my girl attention after having to punish you. Don't I?"

You didn't answer. You  _ couldn't  _ answer. If you opened your mouth, you were afraid you would throw up. Everything about him disgusted you. You disgusted yourself for allowing this. Ron dipped a hand between your legs and you choked back a sob, wishing you were wearing something besides your pajama top and panties. He always did this when you felt the most vulnerable. 

He found your center and pressed hard, his fingers greedily pushing past your panties as he circled his free hand to your throat. "Tell me that you want it." 

You shook your head. "Please, I can't. Not right now."

"I'm sorry, you can't? Is that what you just said to me?" He pulled his hand out from between your legs and spun you by the grip he now had around your neck. You cried out as he slammed you back into the wall, exactly where he had just put a hole in the drywall. "You don't get to tell me,  _ I can't _ ." He repeated what you had said, his tone high pitched and mocking. "All you get to tell me is  _ yes, sir _ , you got that?"

He squeezed the sides of your throat tighter, allowing you to breathe but just barely. Just enough to say  _ yes, sir _ . But you didn't say it. You lifted your eyes, looking at him through a blur of tears. Your hands gripped his wrist and you dug your fingernails into his flesh. "No!" 

Fury was immediate in his face, twisting into a snarl. He spun you by your shoulder and kicked your feet apart to spread your legs. You pushed at the wall but he held you, pinned you to it with his arm across your shoulders. His elbow dug into an old bruise on your back and you cried out in pain. As his hands shoved your panties down your hips, you screamed.

"No! No, stop!" Your teeth gnashed together to the point where you feared they'd crack and you pushed against the wall with every ounce of your strength. The sound of his belt coming loose sent blinding panic through your entire body and you screamed again, as loud as you could. 

And someone had heard. Someone kicked the front door to your apartment in and the pressure and pain at your back lifted. You were able to stumble back and pull your panties up, blinking through the tears at a blur of a man in a familiar red suit.

You swiped at your eyes and frowned at your savior. His face was painted like a clown, with a red-painted smile and nose. You looked at his hair, dyed green with bits of the coloring still staining his hairline as if he had done it hastily and without a care. So caught off guard by his appearance, you hadn't been able to even talk...or see the gun he held out in front of him, pointed directly at Ron. 

"Arthur?" You asked, finally finding your voice. Seeing him now like this, so furious and deadly, after he had kissed you so gently in the hallway, made you laugh. It caught in your throat and you quickly put a hand to your mouth to stop it.

His mouth stretched into a smile that didn't reflect the anger in his glare. Still, you felt safer with him here. You glanced back at Ron who was standing in the middle of the living room, his belt and jeans opened at his waist. He held them up with one hand in a white knuckle grip. He was seething with rage, breathing in and out through his nose. 

"You got a fucking problem, pal? Get the fuck out of my house!"

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, his voice quiet and steady. He never looked at you, never took his eyes off Ron but you found yourself nodding. It was your go to response, always covering up for Ron. You stopped and sniffed, wiping a few drops of blood away from your face. 

"I'm not, actually." 

Ron moved his glare to you. "Fucking bitch. You been seeing this freak behind my back or something?" 

You didn't respond to him. You pushed away from the wall and stepped to Arthur's side. He still hadn't looked at you but that was fine. You didn't want him seeing you so battered and bruised. 

"Just say the word," Arthur said to you, making you blink up at him in surprise. Was he actually asking you for permission to shoot your boyfriend? You horrible, abusive, demented, rapist of a boyfriend. 

The words the two of you had shared two nights ago echoed in your head. 

_ 'The only way is if I die.' _

_ 'If anyone dies, it should be him…' _

_ It should be him. _

You turned and looked at Ron, still furious, still gripping his belt and jeans and looking angrier that he'd been stopped than he was sorry for actually doing it. He was never sorry. He would never stop. 

Suddenly, his face changed and he shook his head. "Baby, whatever this is, we can get through it. You can't seriously be considering this. I love you."

Hearing those words hurt worse than any bruised or cut he had ever given you and your fingers trembled at your side. You reached up and took Arthur's free hand in yours, giving him a gentle squeeze. He pressed down on the hammer with his thumb, the chambers locking into place with a soft click that echoed in the apartment. Ron took several quick breaths, eyes darting between the two of you. 

"I should have known you were fucking around behind my back, you god damn slut. How long you been planning this?"

The two of you stayed quiet, watching him go through all of his usual tricks to get out of the situation. When one didn't work, he switched to the next tactic. You'd heard them all before and with Arthur's hand still holding onto yours, they had no effect on you anymore. 

Ron buckled his jeans and belt once more and pointed a finger to you. "I'll fucking kill you. I kill you both and--"

"Cover your ears," Arthur said, cutting Ron's words off. "And look away if you need to."

You didn't. 

As you placed your hands over your ears, Ron stared at you with wide eyes. His face had gone red from his receding hairline down to the stubble on his chin. You didn't know what he was thinking, lunging toward an armed man. Maybe he thought since he had overpowered you for so long, he was invincible. But he wasn't. 

The shot rang out and even with your hands over your ears, it was loud enough to leave them ringing. Ron stumbled to his knees and put his hands out to catch himself, blood pooling out of the front of his shirt. Arthur had shot him right in the chest, right where his shriveled, black heart was. And you'd never felt more free. 

Arthur lowered his hand and turned to face you. His free hand pulled at your hands to uncover your ears and you blinked up at him. A small prickle of fear ran down your spine and your eyes darted to the door. The neighbors may have ignored your cries and screams over the last years, but they wouldn't ignore a gunshot. The police would be here any minute, swarming the building. Or maybe not. They didn't exactly make this area of Gotham a top priority and gunshots were common these days. 

"Do you watch the Murray Franklin show?" The question caught you off guard and you blinked several times.

"What? No...not really."

"I'm going to be on tonight as a guest. You should watch it."

"I think I'm going to be busy." You glanced back at the slumped body of your boyfriend, relieved that you felt nothing for him. Just relief that he was gone. "I should call the police. But you need to leave before I do. I'll just tell them someone tried to break in or something."

Arthur shrugged and slipped the gun back into the inside of his coat. "You can tell them it was me. I don't really care. I'm just glad you're okay." 

You nodded, swallowing tightly as a rush of emotions flooded up through your body. The relief was still there, but so were other things. Things that you had thought were long dead inside you. You reached up and smoothed your hands over his chest, feeling the material of his coat and the yellow vest beneath. He took a deep breath in, leaning closer as if smelling you. 

As you gripped his jacket tightly, pulling him down toward you, he reached out and shut the door he had kicked open. The lock was broken, but it managed to stay closed. And then he kissed you. 

It was completely different than the one he had given you the other night in the hallway. Where that one had been sweet and tender, this was nothing but a release of pent up energy and lust. He backed you into the wall, careful not to be too rough and you sighed against his mouth. 

His hands were on your hips, sliding up your waist and beneath your shirt and all the while, he was so gentle about it. There were no groping, bruising touches. Just a sweet caress of his thumb over your hardened nipple. You arched into him and reached up to tangle your fingers in his damp hair. He let out a moan that vibrated your lips and you tilted your head to the side to let his tongue into your mouth. 

You could feel how hard he was at your waist, pressing into you with a quick grind of his hips over yours. You knew you should be disgusted with what you were doing, that your boyfriend's body was still warm and still pouring blood over the carpet of your living room. 

But you didn't care about that right now. You were free to do what you wanted and what you wanted was to fuck Arthur. 

He dropped his hands to your hips and lifted you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. Your ankles hooked behind him and he held you up with an arm around your waist. He spun you, much like he had out in the hall while dancing, and you felt the kitchen counter beneath your ass a moment later. 

Your hands were greedy, pushing his coat over his shoulders and he slipped it off, draping it over the sink beside you. Somewhere in the fabric, you knew his gun was hiding, and you couldn't hide the shiver that ran through you at the thought of it. 

He dipped his head to your neck and kissed at the tender spots where Ron had gripped you. He pulled you to the edge of the counter and pressed his cock against your center, pulling a moan from your throat. "Am I hurting you?" He whispered.

You shook your head and pulled him back into you, clenching your thighs around him. "No, it feels good. Please, don't stop."

He did as you asked and pushed into you once more, sending pleasure trembling through you. He reached up and smoothed your hair back and you blinked up at the smear of red paint across his face. How could someone look so beautiful covered in face paint after killing a man? You whimpered as he captured your lips once more in a kiss and you reached down to wiggle your panties past your hips. He slipped them off the rest of the way and you felt them dangle from your toes before kicking them to the floor.

He quickly unbuttoned his pants and slid them and his underwear down enough to pull his hard cock free. You gasped and pawed at his shoulders, wishing you could touch every inch of his body. Despite you practically panting and begging for him, he gripped his cock and hesitated, breaking your kiss.

Your eyes met his and he searched them for any resistance, any sign that this wasn't what you wanted. And when he found none, he positioned himself at your opening and pushed himself into you. He felt bigger than what you were used to and he let you have a few seconds to adjust to his size. With another whimper from you, he pulled back and sheathed himself into you once more. He found a steady rhythm quickly and you raked your fingers through his tangled hair, pulling him back for another kiss.

His hands on your hips were tight but not painful and he used his grip to keep you steady while he thrust into you. Together, your breaths and sounds filled the quiet space of the kitchen and you let your head fall back against the cabinets behind you. He pushed your shirt up to your chest to expose your breasts, keeping one hand groping them while the other still had a hold of your hips. 

Arthur lifted his face and you stared at him, lips parted, brows furrowed in concentration and you couldn't help but moan from the beautiful sight of him fucking you. He pulled you closer to the edge of the countertop and from here, his cock hit newer depths. You arched your chest upward into his hand and whimpered. 

"God, please don't stop." You murmured, bringing his hand up from your breast to your mouth. You took his first two fingers into your mouth and sucked, curling your tongue around them. He did exactly as you begged and kept his pace, slamming into you and pushing against that spot inside you that burned with a delicious fire. 

It coiled tighter and tighter inside you, settling low in your belly so hot you had to cry out. Arthur thrust harder and you couldn't hold back any longer. You came around him, walls pulsing over his cock while you sobbed from the pure ecstasy of it, letting him pull his fingers out of your mouth with a soft pop. He kept up his pace, matching the seemingly endless waves of your orgasm and you caught the sound of his gasp. 

His hips pounded against yours and his movements grew erratic and fast. He was close and you grabbed at his vest, desperate to pull him closer and kiss him while he came. You moved your lips against his, opening his mouth to caress his tongue with yours and when he came, you greedily drank in his moans. You felt his entire body tremble and he gave a few more thrusts until he was completely drained inside you. 

For several moments, while you both caught your breaths, you pressed quick kisses against his mouth and he smoothed his hands up the length of your back. He dropped his forehead to yours and sighed with a smile stretching across his mouth. The edges of his paint was smeared and you suspected half of it was on your mouth. It made you giggle and he took your face with both hands. 

"I hate to fuck and run."

You laughed again, partly because your adrenaline was fading and leaving you a bit delirious but mostly because you were  _ happy.  _ Nodding, you slid back along the counter and he pulled himself out of you before slipping his pants back up around his waist. He buttoned them and gave you a look, one eyebrow raised. 

"Are you going to be alright? I probably won't be coming back."

You figured as much. He had just killed someone after all. With a nod, you reached up and smoothed a smudge of his makeup with the edge of your thumb. 

"I'm great, actually. It's strange, how little I feel right now." 

"That's because you're not stuck anymore. I'm not stuck either and I've never felt better." He brought a hand to your face and brushed a finger across the cut on your jaw. "I know what it feels like to be trapped by forces against your control. You just have to fight your way out of them. Even if that means people die." 

You nodded and watched him reach for his coat. He slipped it back over his shoulders and straightened the collar. He held his arms out at his side and you grinned at him.

"How do I look?"

"You look great." You hopped off the counter and stepped back into your panties. You twirled in front of him. "What about me? Do I look like I was just robbed and attacked?" 

Arthur reached out and looped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his body. He took your hand and waltzed around your kitchen, dipping you once and pressing a kiss to your throat before lifting you back to your feet.

"You look ravishing. I only regret we didn't have more time together."

"If only we had met years ago."

Arthur kissed you once more, cutting your words off and you felt his smile against your mouth. "I like it this way. Maybe we'll find one another again one day." He gave a spin and held your hand out before pressing his lips to your knuckles. "Don't forget to watch the show tonight."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *


End file.
